


What happens on P7J-558

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Drugged Sex, Fanfiction, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Pegasus is in sore need of a porn channel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What happens on P7J-558

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Non-con because AMTDI, but minimal angst and a hopeful ending.  
> For the SGA 10 Years Later celebration. Self-indulgent trope-fic porn, because I felt like it.

===000===

"Absolutely fucking not."

Rodney glances at Sheppard nervously. Shit. It's that pale, grim, flared-nostril look he only gets before things turn completely to custard.

The high muckity-muck of whatever godforsaken mud-ball this is (P7J-558, Rodney's relentless mind adds) hasn't recognised the Look of Doom. If he had, he'd have backed off from his ultimatum.

"Er–" says Rodney, waving a hand randomly to convey a warning to the idiot in the really big hat who just told them that Ronon and Teyla have been locked in the dungeons. Apparently this lot regard them as traitors to Pegasus because they're assisting "aliens". They've got a special form of humiliation reserved for said aliens: namely, a performance threesome. Really, Pegasus is in sore need of a porn channel; maybe then they'd leave the Atlanteans alone.

"Actually, Colonel, it's not your decision," says Carter.

"In the field, the Military Commander–" snaps Sheppard.

Carter makes a slashing motion with her hand and cuts him off. She hasn't looked at him once, eyes locked grimly on the Lord High Poobah. "And that would maybe fly if I didn't outrank you as well as being Head of Mission," she says flatly.

Sheppard gets a pinched, constipated look, clearly torn between obeying orders, whining, and punching her out. At least it's deflected him from trying to kill the aliens with his brain. _But no,_ Rodney thinks. _Here,_ we're _the aliens._

"Ah, may I offer a comment?" Rodney asks carefully. Big-hat inclines his head and Sheppard glares a _don't fuck this up, McKay_ warning at Rodney. Rodney ignores him. "The, ah, logistics may be a little tricky." He waves his hands again, to soften the demurral. Big-hat frowns. "Not that we aren't keen as mustard to humiliate ourselves with performance sex before your council, oh no, we most certainly are. But, you know, the spirit may be willing but the flesh is going to be weak." Rodney stops gabbling and glances at Carter. "Er, probably." Carter rolls her eyes but hey – it's all fine and dandy for her. She doesn't have external genitalia.

It's not an idiom that translates perfectly: the Lord High whatever squints at him. "Weakness is not the issue. You will be lying down."

"Well, that's a little unimaginative, but not quite what I... Ah, Colonel Sheppard and me, I meant. _Our_ flesh may be...uncooperative. Under pressure." Rodney flails in the general direction of his groin, and of Sheppard's. Sheppard shoots him an affronted death-glare but that's probably just for impugning his virility, not a prelude to mass murder.

Big-hat makes a dismissive gesture. "That will be taken care of. You will drink villi juice." He leers. "No-one can resist villi juice."

Rodney closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. Drugged and forced into a public threesome with the two people he most wants to have sex with. But not like this; not with a bunch of voyeuristic pricks looking on. But Teyla. And Ronon.

Carter's talking again. "If we do this, you'll release us all? Our friends as well?"

The Lord High Councillor inclines his head. "You will all be free to go. You will _not_ be welcome to return."

"Come back with a _nuke_ ," Sheppard mutters truculently.

Carter grimaces. "Yeah, try explaining genocide in your mission report to the SGC," she says. "We're gonna have to suck it up, Sheppard." There's a pause as they consider this. "Possibly could have phrased that better," Carter says.

===000===

Sheppard clearly wants to fling the villi juice back in the faces of their captors, but he looks at Rodney, then exhales heavily. "I'll go first, McKay. Make sure it's okay." Rodney nods, more relieved that Sheppard'll go along without being held down, beaten up and force-fed the stuff, than about having his own personal food-taster. Sheppard makes a face. "Too sweet. But nothing like citrus, so hopefully it's safe."

He and Carter drink their portions, and bleh, it's sticky-sweet and tastes like violets. They wash it down with water. The guards who brought the villi juice leave and they hear a heavy lock clicking into place. Sheppard takes the water jug back to the table in the center of the room then starts pacing, restlessly circling the room. Rodney frowns at him – he thinks he knows what's eating Sheppard, and it's not just being captured, being separated from Ronon and Teyla. "Give me a minute," he says to Carter, tilting his head at Sheppard. She nods, and turns away.

"Hey," says Rodney quietly, as he comes up behind Sheppard. Sheppard whirls, then catches himself, and pretends he wasn't a hairsbreadth away from lashing out. "It's gonna be okay, John."

Sheppard glares at him, probably as Rodney used his given name, which isn't their SOP on missions. Some military chain-of-command bullshit; Rodney never really got it. "Oh yeah? How's that, _Rodney_? In what alternate universe is being coerced into group sex to save our teammates _ever_ okay? Huh?"

Rodney gives him pissy look #11. "C'mon John, it happens with gate teams more than you'd credit. It's all over the SG1 mission reports if you read between the lines. That's not really what's bothering you, is it?"

"It's enough." John's mouth's set in a stubborn line. Right – they're doing this the hard way.

"Yeah, well. Not okay, but…um…survivable," Rodney tries. Sheppard looks away, rubbing his mouth and grimacing. Rodney can still taste that damn juice as well, cloying in the back of his throat. He swallows. "look, I. I'm not asking, and you're not telling, but I'm just saying. I'll…I'll 'take care of' Sam." Jesus, Rodney hates himself sometimes. He even did air quotes.

Sheppard's looking disbelieving. "You'll…"

Rodney hurries on; surely he can't fuck this up any worse than he has already? "Yeah, I'll," he makes a vague to and fro gesture, "…with Sam. You won't have to…y'know." Sheppard's glaring at him now – great. "I figured with you both being military, and Sam your CO and all…and anyway, I'm more bi than gay, so it's no big–"

" _McKay_ , shut the fuck up." Sheppard's rubbing his ears furiously, as though that'll erase what he's heard.

Rodney draws himself up, chin out, eyes narrowed. "I'm not military, plus, Canadian, here. I don't have to follow your asinine code of conduct, Colonel."

"Not that I'm not thrilled you've come out to me," Sheppard growls, weirdly intense as he leans in, "but you do recall what these bastards want us to do, right? _All_ of us, not just you and…and Sam." He glances over to where Sam's got her back to them on the other side of the room, examining a tapestry as though fascinated by the details. " 'cause unless I'm getting the math wrong here, that means it's gonna be you and _me,_ not just you and Sam," and he makes the same to and fro gesture Rodney just did, but really sarcastically.

"It's okay," Rodney reassures him. "You can fuck me, no one's going to make you…" _get down on your knees, take it up the ass, suck my dick._ He stops, mouth open, the words drifting unspoken in the air between them. Sheppard screws his eyes up like his brain hurts. It probably does; Rodney's sure as hell does. "It's just, I figured that'd be easier for you, with the being gay and all," Rodney says, because he can't seem to stop fucking _talking_.

Sheppard freezes, eyes darting across at Sam, who's crouched over her pack, rummaging through it and studiously ignoring them. "I…I never–"

"Oh _please_ ," hisses Rodney, suddenly furious. "I don't know who you think you're fooling. Anyway, that horrible juice stuff'll probably make us want to fuck anything that moves, so you're lucky I'm offering. Just for Christ's sake prep me first, even if you are all," he flails, "frenzied."

"…frenzied," repeats Sheppard in a small voice, looking like he's been hit on the head with a mallet.

"Ah, guys?" It's Sam, holding a paper bag out to Rodney. He looks inside: condoms and lube. She shrugs. "Emergency supply kit."

"Oh, right." Rodney fishes about and contributes another couple of condoms. They both look at Sheppard expectantly. He rolls his eyes, flushing, but unearths another four from a tac-vest pocket.

"I'm sure it'd be fine anyway," says Sam, not quite meeting their eyes. "I mean, we all get tested regularly, and I've got an implant, so…"

"Yes, yes," says Rodney briskly, trying to keep the desperate edge out of his voice. He stares about the room. "I still don't see how this is meant to work with us locked in here. They said we had to…ah…do it…um, in front of the council. "But that looks like we're meant to…" he waves a hand at the huge bed in the center of the room. Then he tilts his head back to peer up at the ceiling, in case there's a skylight or something reflective. It's really far away, and he wonders why the stud's so high.

The next thing Rodney knows he's flat on his ass, head spinning. "Ouch," he says, annoyed. "What?"

Sheppard crouches over him, grinning. "Think you might have fainted, McKay."

"Look," says Rodney, jabbing Sheppard in the chest – which only causes his finger to be stubbed on the damn tac-vest, so double-ouch – "I've told you before. I don't _faint_. That was just vertigo, or, or maybe a reaction to that foul juice, or something."

"Yeah, yeah," says Sheppard easily, hauling Rodney up, still grinning like a loon. "What were you looking for anyway?"

"I don't know, do I? Maybe it's all done with mirrors!" Rodney waves his arms, and Sheppard has to catch him by his vest again as he tilts off balance. "Oops," Rodney says, and now he's grinning too, both of them teetering on the edge of cracking up hysterically. Is it stress?

"Might be hidden cameras," says Sheppard, weirdly cheerful, waving a hand at the wall hangings.

Rodney and Sam shake their heads, talking across each other.

"They don't have that level of–"

"No tech above bronze age–"

Sheppard smirks. "Cool, geek stereo." He claps a hand over his mouth, staring at Sam like a kid caught swearing.

She just shrugs. "Yeah, I think it's starting to kick in."

"Why," asks Rodney, worried, "what are you…?" Then it hits him, warmth expanding in the small of his back and licking up his spine. He feels good, relaxed, horny. He looks at the others. Sam's eyes are a little glazed. Sheppard's – _John's_ – eyes are shut, and he's biting his lip. Probably fighting it, the idiot. Rodney's eyes flick helplessly down, and yeah, there's a bulge in John's BDU pants to match Rodney's own. He forces his gaze upward to find John staring at him, eyes dark.

"We should…" Sam waves at the bed. "While the stuff's working. Come on. Last one in has to fuck Rodney." She giggles and heads for the bed, undoing her vest and dropping it on the floor, then pushing her pants down, tripping on them, snorting as she falls onto the bed, legs in the air, undoing her boots then kicking her feet free of them and the tangled trouser legs. "Oops," Sam says, snickering.

Rodney's…well, giggling's really the only word for it. He shucks off his own vest and undoes his boots _first_ before stepping out of his pants, because one thing he excels at is learning from observation.

There's another snort from the bed and Sam's rolling about, pointing at his boxers and clutching her stomach. What? They're only his second favorite pair, blue, with 'the physics is theoretical but the fun is real' printed on them in white. "Smooth, McKay," Sam wheezes.

"Yeah, I know. Got them in last year's Secret Santa," says Rodney, grinning.

"Figured you'd like 'em," says John, who's gotten his clothes off with some ultra-fast ninja moves and is pressed up against Rodney's back now, arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck.

"I knew it was you!" Rodney laughs and grinds back on John's cock, arching his neck so John can lick down it. John uses his teeth a little, which sends shockwaves through Rodney, making him whimper. He reaches back and grabs John's ass then writhes against him and John groans and bites down where Rodney's shoulder meets his neck, his big hand closing around Rodney's cock through the geek boxers. Rodney almost comes.

He tears his eyes open to see Sam, curled naked on the bed now, one hand between her legs. Her mouth's open and she's watching them, heavy-eyed, pinching a nipple with her other hand. John's hand's inside Rodney's shorts now and he's jacking Rodney's cock and licking his ear. "C'mon, Rodney, Jesus, c'mon," he gasps, twisting his wrist. Sam moans, hand moving urgently as she fucks herself on her fingers, hips bucking as her face contorts with pleasure. Rodney's head falls back on John's chest, knees giving way but John's arm's around his waist, holding him up as he comes like a fire hydrant, John's hand slippery on his cock until he can't bear it, grabbing John's hairy wrist and pulling him away. "Nuh," he manages, but his mouth's not working right.

John makes a desperate, strangled noise behind him and Rodney's half pushed, half lifted onto the bed, falling between Sam's legs where she's sprawled out, panting. The boxers are pulled roughly off, Rodney wincing as they graze his sensitive cock, but John's too far gone to notice. Too far gone for prep, either, the bag of supplies abandoned in a heap of clothing much too far away. John knocks Rodney's legs apart and gets a come-slick finger into him, then another, too fast, but Rodney's half-boneless so it feels good, heat still pooled at the base of his spine. He likes the burn of John's fingers, three now, and Rodney pushes back onto them, snarling something about _now_ and _fuck me_ and _want it_ and John gives it to him and it hurts and it's hot and thick and wonderful and John's grunting, fucking into him with short, vicious thrusts, driving him down into the bed.

Rodney gets his arms up and braces, then he realizes where he is and gets them around Sam's thighs, letting John push him forward until his face is mashed between her legs, licking and sucking, pushing his tongue in as far as he can, then flicking it around her clit. He can't manage any finesse with John pounding into him like a pile-driver and he has to be careful with his teeth, but he does what he can and the noises she's making tell him he's doing some things right. He gets one arm up and a couple of fingers into her, using the broad of his tongue on her clit until she shudders, contracting on his hand then pushing him away, gasping.

Rodney raises up on his elbows, back arching, and he feels John's thrusts go ragged, feels him curl down, covering Rodney's back and mouthing the sweat between his shoulder blades. John's grunting helplessly now, driving Rodney's face into the bedclothes and biting the back of his neck in a ragged staccato of thrusts as he finishes. _Yup, frenzied,_ thinks Rodney in a daze, but John's fallen onto the bed beside him, lying there panting, and Rodney gets a hand down and jerks off, kind of frenzied himself.

He comes to when John says "Shit, the tapestry."

Rodney squints up. The whole far wall's changed, the wall hangings pulled back, exposing a balcony. Several elders from the council are standing, filing out a side door. The guy in the big hat looks down at them. "Honor is satisfied," he says. "You will be taken to the Ring in the morning." He raises a hand to forestall John's question. "With the Athosian woman and the Satedan."

Hat guy slams the upper door after him and they hear another lock click home. John gets up and checks the main door to the room, but it's still locked. He grabs the jug of water on the way back to the bed and they take turns drinking thirstily. Rodney locates a primitive bathroom behind another curtain. They wash up then demolish a plate of bread and fruit, some sort of soft cheese.

None of them have put their clothes back on, which is strange, but Rodney can't be bothered. _This is your brain on drugs_ , he thinks. It must be the villi juice – he's come twice but he's half-hard again. Sheppard's hard, too, and Sam's eyes are dark, her movements languid. Rodney's skin prickles with sweat down his spine. He's hot, in every sense, and he reaches down and gives himself a stroke, biting his lip. It feels good. Sam pushes the remains of the food off the bed and crawls over to him, straddling Rodney and tilting his face, kissing him hungrily. She pulls him back on top of her, spreading her legs as he guides himself into her, then there's another hand on his cock, John's hand, covering Rodney's fingers and giving him a hard squeeze before pulling back to cup his balls.

Rodney slides into Sam and Christ it's good, hot and slippery and just as he'd imagined. He goes a little crazy with her breasts for a while, sucking and licking, squeezing them together and rubbing his face there, seeking blindly for a nipple on this side, then the other. He's so lost he almost doesn't feel John pushing a pillow under Sam's ass, forcing her legs wide so he can spread Rodney's ass cheeks and get his tongue into Rodney's ass. Rodney's brain shorts out, hips jerking mindlessly into Sam as John gets a finger in alongside his tongue. He hears himself make embarrassing sounds, inhuman grunts and whimpers, his mouth sloppy and slack on her breasts, but she's got her hands on his ass now, holding him open for John's mouth and it's too much, he can't take it. He feels Sam come again, tight around his cock before he whites out, jerking, impaled. Distantly, he feels John pull off. John's legs flex and tremble where they're pressed between Rodney's thighs, then he cries out and there's a splatter of come across Rodney's ass. Rodney comes again, impossibly, then passes out.

He wakes with John kissing him, and kisses back eagerly, then remembers where that tongue's been and pushes John away. "Ew. Did you wash?"

"Yeah, yeah, washed and shaved and gargled and all, just for you," says John, grinning, so Rodney lets himself be kissed some more. Sam's still asleep and they try not to wake her, making out drowsily, rubbing off against each other until suddenly it's urgent again and John gets a hand down and around both their cocks.

"Got me all sticky again," grumbles Rodney afterward, but he can't be bothered getting up so he lets John curl behind him, arm around Rodney's waist, pulling him close.

===000===

When Rodney wakes, dawn light's graying the high windows and his head's on Sam's shoulder. Someone pulled the covers up and he's warm, John still spooned around his back, their legs tangled.

Rodney tries to play possum, doesn't want to face the aftermath. The headache, the awkwardness, not being able to look Teyla and Ronon in the eye. Not being able to do this again with John and Sam.

John chivvies him awake anyway, and Sam's blearily putting on her clothes. They have to find their team-mates and get the hell out of here; Rodney knows that. He can't stand it, though, as they pull on tac-vests and strap their packs shut as though it were any other off-world mission where they'd stayed overnight. He's not good with secrets. Not this sort.

"That's it, then?" he asks, his voice scratchy, a little raw. "We're going to be strong and silent and never mention this again?"

Sam shoots him a look. "Pretty much," she says. "What happens on P7J-558 stays on P7J-558." She shrugs. "Our doctors'll have to know, but we'll be circumspect in the mission reports." She smiles at him, a little sad. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I was in charge and I let you down. Didn't mean for you to have to go through anything like that."

"Nothing you could have done," says Sheppard. "Teyla didn't see it coming and she's got the best crazy-locals spidey-sense of us all." Rodney realizes it _is_ Sheppard with them, not John. The mask's back in place, his stance tense, eyes watchful.

Fuck it. "Well, I just wanted to say," blurts Rodney," that if it, um, if it _had_ to happen. Well, I'm just glad it was with…" he trails off. _Glad it was you two who got drugged and coerced into an exhibitionistic orgy with me._ Yeah, no. He shuts his mouth and flails a hand. "You know."

Sam rolls her eyes and shakes her head, half-smiling. "Yeah, Rodney, we know." She jerks her head to the door, where the lock's just snicked back. "C'mon, let's get Ronon and Teyla."

Rodney shoots an anxious glance at Sheppard, but his face is a little softer, not quite smiling, but not as shut down as before.

"After you, buddy," says Sheppard, and he claps Rodney on the back, gripping his shoulder to urge him forward. His thumb strokes briefly up the nape of Rodney's neck to the hairline, making him shiver and clench his ass. He draws in a sharp breath as he follows Sam out, comforted by the dull burning pain. History may be revised in the reports but his ass won't be denied; it bears witness.

The thought of his ass bearing witness makes Rodney grin, and Sheppard quirks a half-smile in return. "Feelin' better?"

"Oddly, yes," says Rodney. Maybe he'll tell Sheppard his ass joke some day.

Maybe tomorrow night he'll go to Sheppard's room. Maybe he'll find John there.

===000===

the end

 


End file.
